


Zero-sum Gravida

by amarmeme



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Post-Break Up, Unplanned Pregnancy, pregnancy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/pseuds/amarmeme
Summary: Casarra Ryder didn't want to speak to the Charlatan ever again. After an unforeseen complication arises, Casarra must decide what to do next, and whether or not to do it alone.Perhaps SAM was too effective in its upgrades.





	1. The human condition

The Pathfinder is with child. Though it grows, a tiny spec of cells multiplying inside her body, she does not know. 

SAM cannot understand for it. By all accounts of recorded data on human gestation, the infinitesimal shift is a momentous one, yet for a time, the process is imperceptible to Ryder. 

 _Is it a flaw of humankind?_  

SAM can detect the changes easily, could identify the moment of conception, the first division of cells, the flood of hormones to support development. SAM has every reason to believe she would appreciate the intricacies of her current situation: each precise step in the process unfolding swiftly and with an elegant degree of complexity and design.    


_This new marvel would suit her sensibilities well_ , SAM decides.  

But for whatever unfathomable reason, SAM has not yet mentioned the knowledge it possesses. Somehow the pregnancy is not like the rest of the information the AI provides the Pathfinder. There is no suitable explanation for the delay, yet SAM waits regardless. 

Alec Ryder never intended this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A distinct AU from the other main Casarra x Reyes story I'm plodding through slowly. 
> 
> What if integrating with SAM cleared up all those procreation blockers?


	2. The most natural thing in the world

After the complete mess she’d left behind on Kadara, the tangles of Havarl were hardly a challenge for Casarra Ryder. While the orange creamsicle sun fell beneath the horizon, the Pathfinder sliced through a thicket of large, spiny plants in an effort to find the last piece of a broken spaceship. The lush plants were beautiful, their leaves tinged pink like ink leeching onto a page and a delicate appearance belied by a strength as tough as nails. Casarra smiled to herself while clearing back the overgrowth. It reminded her of Jaal, though the Angaran was less spiky than the flora native to his homeworld. With the oddity of Havarl’s ecosystem, these particular monocots would likely grow back fully in the next day. She still disliked hacking at their admirable efforts to reach the sun though.

Avitus Rix had asked her to do look for remnants from the Natanus, and while the effort seemed pointless, Casarra couldn’t deny the sentimentalism that clearly wracked the Turian’s heart. It would take a great deal of pain to affect a spectre’s judgement. She didn’t desire adding to it.

Determined, she cleared away the last bit of overgrowth with a strong swipe of the knife, muscles in her arm already tired from exertion. Scooting the fallen leaves out of the way with the tip of her boot, Casarra crouched down in the dirt. The worn metal disc was half buried in the ground, and she began to dig instead of fruitlessly tugging. The earth raked between her gloved fingertips was cool to the touch and the first thing that came to mind was a nice chilled bath. _Perhaps with some flower petals and a bottle of wine,_ she thought. A trickle of sweat slid down the side of her face as if to punctuate her desire. 

Casarra positioned herself for better leverage, attempting to yank the debris free. Suddenly, a nearly silent _swoosh_ that sounded like a bird taking flight was followed by the spark of blue light off the metallic surface of the disc. Casarra looked back over her shoulder, reactions fine tuned by SAM’s presence, and gasped as a streak of plasma ripped through the thick, humid air, straight for her head. The disc came out of the ground at last, and the force her tugging suddenly uninhibited sent her stumbling backwards. In her fall, the metal was gripped so tight it threatened to split her palm clean open, despite the armored suit. Casarra realized almost painfully that a year ago, or really six hundred and one years ago, she would have been far too absorbed in work to react. The plasma bolt slammed into a tree trunk, leaving a sizzling, gaping hole. Without SAM, or the light reflecting off the useless piece of the ship, her head would have been sliced as cleanly as the Jaal-plant at her feet.

Casarra stumbled finding her gun, hand stinging with the bite of the disc. Before the mystery shooter could aim her up again, Peebee’s sing-song voice chimed in.

“I don’t think so!”

Ammo speeding through the barrel of the asari’s hand cannon sent a thrill of relief through Casarra. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears threatened to block out everything else, but SAM always helped amplify her surroundings. Usually cloying, having too many senses for a normal person, Casarra was grateful for the superhuman response now.

“You alright, Ryder?” asked Peebee.

The asari appeared in the frame of the large plant, two spikes on either side of her head. Her smile was crooked; her eyes glinted mischievously in the twilight. Casarra still sprawled, one hand drowning in a puddle of rainwater, the other clutching the disc to her chest like a precious child.

“Now that you're here, Peebs. Help me up?”

Casarra shifted, threw her dripping free hand aloft and blinked away stray droplets of water as they splashed in her face. Peebee ducked around the trailing leaves and grasped Casarra’s hand. She playfully yanked the Pathfinder to her feet, and on the way back up, Casarra’s heart jumped into her throat.

Casarra bent at the waist instinctively, hands coming to rest on her knees, the bruised one stinging sharply as she palmed her kneecaps. It felt as if bones shifted in her grasp as her legs grew weak, the friction and sliding doing nothing but driving her sudden nausea further. Her head swam, fragments of sound and light pushing in on her consciousness. Even SAM’s enhancements could do nothing to stop the inevitable. His disembodied voice was the only thing she could make out clearly, though if it was only in her own mind, she was too far gone to tell. She was caught in the spiral, rushing downward.

“You are losing consciousness, Pathfinder.”

 

Casarra woke to the gentle rushing of leaves, of alien grass tickling her cheek and Vetra hovering above her. She’d fainted once before in her life, twisting an ankle at a college party, causing far more commotion than necessary. Half the women hated her for the attention; the other half rushed to help. She’d met Emily that night.

The current situation promised to be just as dramatic. Casarra blinked slowly, clearing the cobwebs that were dragged out of the attic of her mind. There was no point in ruminating on the past; all those people were gone. It was a bitter truth, and one she was still getting to used to. Vetra sighed from above, mandibles flaring, and spoke into her comms.

“Peebee, where’s Lexi? I told you it would have been much faster if I’d gone.”

While Casarra couldn’t hear Peebee’s response, Vetra’s golden green eyes narrowed. It was clear enough what kind of retort the turian received.

Before altering her guardian, Casarra checked herself. Her fingers were chilled and tingled, the only indication that she hadn't just been taking a catnap in the middle of the wilderness. Taking a deep breath, she managed to perch on her elbows, drawing Vetra’s attention.

“You’re awake.” Vetra smiled down at Casarra, then spoke into her comms again. “Lexi, she’s up.”

Kneeling down, the turian pressed Casarra’s shoulders as she attempted to rise to her feet. Casarra knew she was fine; fainting was hardly a reason to grab Lexi off the ship. But Vetra kept her there until the two Asaris showed up.

Peebee took one glance at Casarra and teased Lexi. “Doc, she looks ready to go.” She winked at Casarra, who returned it in kind. This was far too much fuss for a little fainting spell.

Lexi frowned slightly, a delicate crease in her fine blue skin. “All the same, I would like to do a few tests, Ryder. Just to make sure you really are alright.”

“Really, Lexi, I’m fine.” Casarra looked back to Vetra. “Just tell her to let me up. You’d think I was made of porcelain.”

“You practically are,” Vetra said, poking Casarra’s cheek. “Then again, humans are so smushy.”

“Smushy?” Casarra laughed. “Sorry I’m not born with any natural body armor, but I do okay.”

“You fainted trying to stand up,” Vetra pointed out.

Casarra sighed, pushing away  Lexi’s hands. “Okay, enoughs enough. I’m _really_ fine.” To prove her point, Casarra sprung to her feet, much to the dismay of everyone but Peebee. The young Asari just smiled and cocked a hip.

“There’s remtech all over this place, Ryder. Let’s go find it.”

Casarra shifted the little disc that caused all the commotion in her grasp. It was battered and covered in dirt. Casarra felt very much the same. “No, I’m taking a bath and getting the sweat off of me.”

“I really recommend a few tests before you--”

Casarra cuffed Lexi on the shoulder, cutting her off. “Lexi, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Besides, SAM would tell me if something’s wrong and he’s had nothing to say. Right, SAM?”

SAM didn’t immediately reply. An exaggerated pause was all it took for a creeping suspicion of doubt to rise over her skin. Perhaps something _was_ wrong. SAM had been suspiciously quiet since she fainted.

When the AI did answer, the words echoed only in her head. Another worrisome sign. “Actually, Pathfinder there is a matter with which I need to discuss with you. I believe it best handled in private,” SAM advised.

Casarra blanched, looking away from the three figures examining her closely. She whispered a response to SAM under her breath. “Let’s go now then.”

“I agree, Pathfinder. I will tell Doctor T’Perro there is no cause for alarm.” SAM then switched back to speak to the group. “The Pathfinder experienced a slight loss of consciousness from a combination of lightheadedness and shock, Doctor. No additional tests are necessary at this time. I advise the best course of action is rest. The Pathfinder has not been sleeping well since Kadara.”

“Wow, thanks, SAM.” Casarra’s heart raced at the reminder of Kadara, not that she ever truly put it out of her mind. Most nights she tossed and turned, the Charlatan never far from her thoughts.

While a new storm was brewing inside Casarra, Lexi merely narrowed her eyes and accepted SAM’s assessment as fact.

“Okay, SAM. Ryder, you know you can come to me for more than just physical ailments. If you’re not sleeping well you should have let me know. I still want to see you, but it can wait until tomorrow. ”

“Okay,” Casarra said, nodding. “I will. _I promise_.”

A chill ran down her spine at the echo of Reyes Vidal’s words from her own lips. Weeks later and she was still impacted by him. Even though in scheme of her whole life they'd spent so little time together, he’d rubbed off on her completely. No doubt every wink would forever reminder her of him, sending a little jolt of regret, of longing for an alternate version of Reyes. One where he didn’t lie to her. She’d be watching the shadows for the rest of her life too.

With her thoughts fixated on dangerous territory, Casarra flagged her team to follow her back to the ship. She wanted nothing more than to sink into bed, close her eyes and forget about Reyes Vidal for a few hours. Perhaps whatever SAM had to say, given its level of severity, would help her accomplish that. She’d give anything for a distraction; even a medical one would be better than thinking about her ex.

 _If you could even call him that,_ she thought.

The trip to the Tempest was quick. Casarra pulled off her armor just as soon as she breached the ship’s airlock, stripping down to her tank and skivvies. None of her companions said anything about the fit of pique their leader seemed to be in. Peebee’s midriff baring ensemble was actually suitable for once in Havarl’s heat, and Vetra didn’t begrudge Casarra anything. Lexi simply strode past. For her part, Casarra really wanted to take that chilled bath, but the Tempest had no such luxuries. A cold shower would have to do, once SAM had his say, of course.

Armor stored away in her locker, Casarra walked down to her quarters. Surprisingly, no one else was in the hall. Everyone seemed to be off-ship or squared away out of sight.

“Okay, SAM, what’s going on?” Casarra waited for her automatic doors to part, cracking her knuckles, a terrible habit but one borne out of restlessness.

“I think you should sit down, Pathfinder.”

“Have you been watching hospital dramas again, SAM? When I said you needed to work on your bedside manner I didn’t mean that.”

“No Ryder. Given your recent ailment, I thought it prudent to take any precaution should the situation repeat itself.”

Casarra rolled her eyes, but sat down on the sectional opposite her desk. Somehow the AI managed to sound sassy, despite the monotone. “I’m sitting. What wouldn’t you say in front of the others?”

SAM took a moment, another pause, similar to earlier. Casarra was sick of pauses; she’d had enough dramatics for a lifetime. Before she could prompt him on, SAM spoke, the terminal at her desk flickering with the waves of his programmed voice.

“Your loss of consciousness was caused by a drop in blood pressure. While I’ve been regulating your cardiovascular and nervous systems, the sudden shock of the incident earlier activated the vagus nerve, widening the blood vessels. On top of the state of your current condition, I was unable to properly compensate for the loss of blood flow.”

“What do you mean by current condition?” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the physical manifestation that represented the AI. “SAM?”

“You are pregnant.”

Despite her teasing before, Casarra suddenly appreciated SAM telling her to sit. If he hadn’t, her legs would have gone weak beneath her. Those were the absolute last three words she expected to hear. As it was, Casarra felt as if she was standing under that cold shower already, a shock of icy water running over her back, hairs raised on her arms. Her fingertips were numb again and she raised them up in front of her face. There was a mark on her palm from where she grasped the metal disc earlier. It had bruised through her suit.

“How did this happen?” Her voice was hollow, shell shocked.

“When you and Mr. Vidal engaged in--”

“No,” Casarra barked. She did not need a reminder of that. “I thought I couldn’t get p--,” she couldn’t even say the word. “That wasn’t supposed to be possible. Before we left, we all took the right medication.”

“When you took over control as Pathfinder I believe I may have overridden the procreation blockers in your system.”

“You may have or you did?” She started at the wavering blue ball of light on her desk. If she could have strangled SAM, she would have. She would even unplug him, if not for the direct line to SAM Node in her brain. 

“I did. I should have researched the reason for the blockers’ existence. I take full responsibility for my part.”

“And you didn’t tell me about my own body because? It would have been nice to know I was fertile before he and I--”

Casarra choked down the words. Reyes had taken her here, in her ship, on this very spot. They’d been drinking, that stupid ancient whiskey, and it had been so easy. Nothing seemed more natural than what had happened next.

_Isn’t pregnancy what they call the most natural thing in the world?_

“I didn’t understand it to be a problem at the time. Not until after conception, and then I was able to see what I had done.”

She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. Getting angry would solve for nothing. While SAM monitored her body for the purposes of being able to fight, to be more spatially aware and more capable than her opponents, he had no idea what it was like to be a woman. Women were expected to bear the consequences of being ill-prepared -- pregnancy was a woman’s condition, not a man’s. Of course an AI designed by a man would never fully grasp the implications of upgrading all systems upon integration. Wisftully, Casarra wondered what would have happened had SAM been a SAMANTHA.

It was completely dark in the Pathfinder’s quarters, save for the blue light of the AI’s terminal. The orb was still for some time, perhaps SAM was absorbing his errors fully, calculating for next time, logging this unfortunate situation in an attempt to never repeat his mistakes again. Eventually the warmth returned to Casarra’s limbs, though the frozen hold on her mind persisted. She could not think forward, or backward, only on the three words. _You are pregnant._

Casarra thought the death of her father was the most monumental moment of her life. But this? This was a contender.

Iridescent blue waves of light flickered in the corner of her vision. SAM’s artificial voice was smooth, as always.

“You will remember, Pathfinder, what you said on Voeld. You had closed down the operations at the Kett facility.”

Casarra couldn’t remember anything she said on Voeld with the rush of this new information. Who cared about Voeld at a time like this? Besides, memories of Voeld were clouded with things SAM had said, still new to her head, reminding her about the temperature every chance he could get.

“Remind me,” she said.

“You said, ‘Look at the stars, SAM. Aren’t they marvellous? They’re formed with an exacting balance of forces, but they seem effortlessly beautiful up there.’”

It was surreal to hear her words parroted back to her from the AI; his memory was better than hers would ever be. They were all _her memories_ though. Or were they partly his? She shook her head. The lines between where she ended and SAM began continued to blur, stepping over one another until they were a tangled mess.  And it would continue to tangle; in some ways, the child was a part of them both.

“And? What does that have to do with right now?”

She rubbed her palm, where a fallen piece of spaceship had left a mark on her skin, saving her life. She looked down at hands. She felt removed, as if her hands were foreign, her life was not her own. Who was she? What was she doing here, now in this spaceship in the middle of an entirely different galaxy? Surely this wasn’t her life.

“I thought this new development would find you similarly, Ryder. Perhaps I still misunderstand. This situation is unheard of.”

She could have cried. Not from the AI finding beauty in the nature of the human condition, but for the fact that this _was_ unheard of. She was the only person pregnant in the whole of the Initiative, in the entirety of the human race, or at least in this galaxy. And the father? He was off in another system, orchestrating assassinations and lying to most everyone he knew. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound. The walls of the Tempest were not thick -- the extra weight it would take to insulate them hardly necessary. Today of all days she could have used it.

“Ryder, would you like me to contact Mr. Vidal?”

She did cry then, a few tears slipping out as she laughed, a bit off-balance. The child was better off having an AI as a father. At least SAM admitted his mistakes.


End file.
